


Pavarotti House

by justtoogaytofunction



Category: Glee
Genre: Anorexia, Bulimia, Cutting, Depression, Klaine, M/M, Rape, Self Harm, THIS WILL BE TRIGGERING, psychiatric hospital, that's all the warnings I#m putting in at the moment but you get the idea
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-18
Updated: 2015-05-16
Packaged: 2018-03-18 12:53:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 6,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3570383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/justtoogaytofunction/pseuds/justtoogaytofunction
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Some people, when they enter your life, change everything. Everything which was once yours becomes theirs also, every secret, every problem. And the two hearts which beat become one. A happy ending. But there are some problems, some deteriorating, decaying realities, which no prince can fix.</p><p>-------<br/>Meet Blaine. Depressed and in denial. Kurt Hummel, rude, withdrawn, anorexic. Forced to share a room at Pavarotti House, the psychiatric hospital for teenagers, they may just help each other out. At least, they'll try to.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Pavarotti House

‘BLAINE? BLAINE!’  
‘Yes’  
‘Get in the car. We’re going out.’  
‘What? It’s 5pm dad, where are we going?’  
‘Out.’  
‘Why?’  
‘Because I said so.’  
‘Should I bring anything?’  
‘Just get into the god damn car will you? And say goodbye to your mom and brother first.’  
‘What are we doing?’  
‘Just do it.’

Blaine grabbed a jacket and hugged his mom, letting her kiss him on a cheek. Her smile was different. It was the one she saved for when she had been arguing with his dad, when she would pretend everything was alright. Cooper hugged him too, which was odd. The brothers saved hugging for occasions like birthdays and Cooper’s departures to Los Angeles.  
Blaine’s mom turned away before Blaine was out the door. Cooper waved goodbye until the car left the drive.  
Now in the car, Blaine tried to relax. Not knowing where he was going, ideas and questions took over his mind. The uncertainty made his heart beat faster, hands sweating as they twisted together. He breathed slowly, in through his nose then out through his mouth, just like those exercises he’d found online. He didn’t recognise where his dad was driving too. Trying to make polite conversation, he cleared his throat to speak.   
‘How was your day at work?’  
‘Oh, good, good.’  
‘How long till we’re there?’  
His father glanced at the satnav before speaking.  
‘Awhile, be patient. At least an hour or two.’  
Blaine looked worriedly at the road ahead, now a busy motorway. He didn’t recognise the journey, was sure he hadn’t been here before. Were they off to see another school again? That’s how Blaine had found out about Dalton. But he liked it there, worked well and got on with everyone. They were all accepting there…  
‘’Turn left at the next junction’’  
Hearing the satnav, Blaine stared out of his window, squinting at the blurred scenery. The view now blocked with thick, tall hedges, and thick grey cloud beginning to drizzle rain, it was impossible to say where exactly they were. From the way his dad kept on checking the satnav, it appeared he was unfamiliar with the route too. Now on a country road, Blaine gave up trying to guess where they were going and closed his eyes. At least the car was warm; the heated seats of the car an easy place to go to sleep. Perhaps if he slept he would feel better-he always did.

Closing his eyes, he let his head tilt sideways, trying to clear his mind. Eventually it worked, the soft hum of the engine and the gentle patter of rain drops on the window sending him to a heavy, restful sleep.

 

‘Blaine. BLAINE!’  
The shout awakened Blaine; eyes startled as he looked round and took in his surroundings. Remembering that his dad had been taking him somewhere, he noticed with a panic that they had stopped. Now stationary in a large gravel car park, the huge shadow of an old, grand house stood in front of them. Built like a mansion, it was big enough to be a large school. Was this his new school? Seeing his dad walk quickly to the door, he followed him, head bent over in order to avoid the rain.

His dad rang the doorbell; a harshly loud and old fashioned bell was heard. Whilst waiting for it to be answered, Blaine glanced around. A sign caught his eye, one nailed on to the brick wall next to the door, it read “Pavarotti House: Psychiatric hospital and rehabilitation for teenagers. Specialising in musical therapy.”  
It was a psychiatric ward. A mental hospital. Loony bin.   
Blaine’s heart rate increased so rapidly he thought he might faint; his legs seemed useless, threatening to buck under at any second. Staring in desperation at his dad, who was pointedly looking the other way, Blaine considered running. He didn’t care where, just far away from here. He could make it. He was faster than his dad. And if he was never caught, he would never have to face the punishment. He could do it, he could-  
‘Hello!’  
It was a woman who had answered the door, dressed in a white doctor’s coat and far too cheery and enthusiastic. The world seemingly distant and fuzzy, Blaine found himself shaking his hand and being ushered inside.  
‘You must be Mr Anderson and Blaine! Come on in, I’m Doctor Teri Schuester. Let me show you to my office.’

Inside was spiritless. Old photos framed the walls, past nurses and patients in vintage uniforms. Certificates of medical care were displayed, as if to make assure visitors that the place was indeed of satisfactory standard. Large windows, with dusty black sills, showed the continual rain, now turning into a thunderstorm. A roar of thunder made Blaine jump as the approached a wooden door, following Doctor Schuester inside.

‘Please, take a seat.’  
Both Blaine and his dad sat down on the two brown armchairs in front of a desk. Taking time to look though some computer documents first, Doctor Schuester gleamed up at Blaine.

‘Well, we’re delighted to have you here Blaine, and look forward to helping you to recovery. Now, if you just take these-‘ she handed him some sheets of paper, ‘ and sign them, you’re good to get shown your room.’

Blaine took the documents, staring in bewilderment. Why was he here? Yes, he had been to the doctor a few times but there was no way he should be here. What was his dad thinking?

‘Listen,’ he began. ‘I’m really, fine, honestly. And I don’t think-‘  
‘Blaine, sign them,’ his dad said, voice clipped.   
Hand trembling, Blaine started to his name on the five dotted lines, concentrating on blinking back the moisture in his eyes. This was ridiculous, stupid. No way would he stay here. What even happened here? Images of strait jackets, shock therapy and cages swarmed Blaine’s head. This was where his dad wanted him. Blaine wasn’t wanted back home.  
The last signature done, Blaine looked up at Doctor Shuester.  
‘All done?’ she smiled. Her cherry red lipstick had marked her teeth; a small red smear could be seen on a cosmetically whitened canine.   
‘Yeah.’  
‘Well, that’s it. You can say goodbye to your Dad now.’

Blaine turned to his dad, staring at him. Was this really happening? Blaine wasn’t really sure what was happening. Perhaps it was just a nightmare, like the ones he had got after the attack happened. Deciding he could at least pretend it was a dream, Blaine forced a smile.  
‘Goodbye Dad.’  
‘Bye. Let them fix you.’

Neither one made any sign of movement, but under a tense few seconds of Doctor Schuester’s stare, Blaine’s dad lent forward to hug Blaine.  
A small lump formed in Blaine’s throat. He couldn’t remember the last time a hug between them had occurred.  
‘Mr Anderson, let me see you out. Blaine will be needing his bag tomorrow, unless you brought it today. You did? I’ll take it from the car then, that’s perfect.’

Leaving Blaine alone in his office, the two left. Blaine’s only reaction was to sink his head in his hands. And that’s all he did. Stayed there, frozen in place, the silent screaming of no,no,no,no,no repeating methodically inside his head. Right now, all he wanted to do was die.

‘Blaine!’  
Doctor Schuester’s voice made him startle. She had come back with what Blaine recognised as his suitcase. It looked like his dad had taken the care to pack for him.  
‘I’m going to have to do a search now, make sure you haven’t got anything dangerous. If you just take your clothes off for me and pop the on the chair, I can check them.

Starting with his shoes, Blaine got undressed. Next came his socks, then pants, then his jacket. Taking it off, he stared at the wall, trying not to show any emotion as he revealed the scabs on his left wrist and the ghostly shadows of previous ones. Doctor Schuester didn’t react either. Blaine thought her very polite.  
Next came his shirt, then underwear, Blaine feeling rather exposed as he stood there, watching his pockets get checked and various items removed. His phone, keys, shoelaces, and penknife all went into a locker before he was returned his clothes and watch.   
‘We’ll get you some slippers, Blaine. Every patient has some. When I’ve checked your suitcase, I’ll send it up to your room. Are you ready to see it now?’  
Knowing he didn’t have a choice, Blaine nodded and followed her out the room then up some stairs.  
‘It’s here on the second floor, room 2.16’ Doctor Schuester chatted. ‘Dinner’s in ten minutes so you can get settled in then come down for it- you’ll have a roommate who can show you what to do.’ She pulled a sheet of paper out of her white coat pocket. He’s been here for five months but I’ll let him introduce himself. Yes- this is it, right here.’  
Knocking twice on the door, she waited for an answer. Getting none, she barged it open.  
‘Oh, you are in here,’ she said, rolling her eyes at the boy sat with his back to them, facing the widow outside. ‘I’ve brought your new roommate, would you like to introduce yourself?’  
The boy stayed still.  
Sighing, Doctor Schuester turned to Blaine.  
‘I’m sorry, Blaine. Anyway, this is your new roommate Kurt.’


	2. Meet Kurt

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner can be a distraction. But the empty night cannot.

‘Hey,’ Blaine said, somewhat awkwardly after Mrs Schuester had shut the door on them, saying that dinner would be in half an hour before leaving Blaine alone with Kurt. Kurt still hadn’t bothered to speak to Blaine, head intently looking out of the window. Instead, Blaine had been left with the empty silence and the daunting glare of an empty bed at one side of the room. His bed.  
Still getting no reply, and more out of an attempt to do something rather than just sit there, Blaine spoke again.  
‘You alright?’  
Kurt snorted at that, unable to keep up his silence.  
‘Are you serious? I’m in here, what do you think? Anyway, what about you?’  
He turned, head mooing to face Blaine, to look him in the eyes. And Blaine couldn’t help but notice it. Kurt was beautiful. Ill, terribly so, but beautiful A square, strong jaw. Pale white skin stretched over sharp cheekbones, skin contrasting against the blush of his lips. His eyes were tired but contained the promise of hope, a truthful, innocent promise that there was a story within. It was those eyes, framed by thick, dark brow brows, which Blaine got lost in.  
‘What about me?’ Blaine said, heart flickering as he took a seat on his bed.  
‘Why you in here? What’d you do?’  
‘I-nothing. I’m fine.’  
‘Fine doesn’t get you into this hellhole. And fine definitely doesn’t come with a suitcase.’  
‘What?’  
‘Looks like your dad packed for you, huh?’ Kurt smiled, nodding to the window, were Blaine’s dad could be seen rolling a suitcase into the building. ‘That was kind of him. So what did you do?’  
‘I don’t know. I don’t know what I did.’  
Kurt raised an eyebrow at that, a sharp, questioning look thrown a Blaine. But still, he didn’t press the subject.  
‘What about you?’ Blaine continued, noticing, as he spoke, the sharp jut of Kurt’s shoulder blade through his jumper. And instantly, as the words fall out, Blaine wished he hadn’t said it.  
‘Me?’ Kurt smiled, a weak laugh aimed at Blaine. ‘I think that’s fairly obvious, don’t you?’  
‘Sorry.’  
Kurt grimaced, shaking his head.   
‘So you do think it’s obvious? Really, Blaine, sometimes it’s nicer to play dumb.’  
A bell rung and Blaine didn’t quite know what to say.

Dinner was taken in a room downstairs, Blaine found out. There were about thirty other patients there, plus six adults stood around them, supervising. Each patient sat there, all slowly sitting down and casually staring him. Blaine wasn’t sure what to do other than to follow Kurt and sit next to him, clearing his throat and staring down at his knife and fork, avoiding the glares of everyone else.  
‘What’s for dinner?’ He asked Kurt.  
‘Fresh meat.’  
A girl to Kurt’s left laughed at that, flicking back her dark hair before rapping her painted nails on the table.   
‘Hey, Seb!’ She yelled, grabbing the attention of a guy sat up the table. ‘Look at Kurt’s new friend!’  
Blaine smiled, forcing it out to the boy who was staring at him intently. Something about him made Blaine feel uneasy. The boy stared and didn’t stop.  
‘What’s your name?’ The boy said, still smiling at Kurt, never once stopping. ‘I’m Sebastian- but I’ll let you call me Seb, okay?’  
‘I’m Blaine.’  
‘Blaine. Blaine.’  
Seb let the words roll around on his tongue, playing with the name.  
‘I like it.’  
Blaine smiled, eyes returning to the table. He was saved by the arrival of food, a tray tailored to each individual, weighed out perfectly before dunked in front of them. Kurt flinched before one of the adults – ‘nurses’, Blaine tried to remember to call them- pushed his shoulders down. The food wasn’t the best- mainly a stew of some sort and mashed potato- but it seemed okay. There was also a meek, quiet looking girl at the table who had a fluent conversation with herself, occasionally shouting at the thin air, but apart from that, dinner was kind of normal. And, if he blocked out the fact he had been abandoned in a mental house, and ignored Kurt’s soft groaning as he ate, Blaine actually felt alright eating his dinner.  
When they were done, Kurt went straight up to his room, Blaine following. Someone had brought his suitcase into the room, lid already opened. No doubt someone had searched through it, making sure there was nothing forbidden inside.  
‘What happens now?’ Blaine asked as they reached their room, closing the door behind him.  
‘Now? I use the bathroom, you shut up, and I try get some sleep.’  
True to his word, Kurt showered, read out of a book for half an hour, and then disappeared underneath his blankets to sleep, muttering at Blaine to switch the light off soon. Flicking them out, Blaine got his wash bag and trudged to the bathroom, feeling quite alone.  
At least the bathroom was tidy, he thought, noticing with a smile at all the different products Kurt had, lined up immaculately on a shelf. There was an empty shelf for Blaine, along with a clean towel. All Blaine wanted to do was cut, shower, shave and brush his teeth. Then maybe he could sleep.  
Opening his wash bag, Blaine frowned. Shower gel, shampoo, hair gel, tooth brush, toothpaste and shaving foam were all there. But no razor. Of course not, he thought. The idiots here would never allow that. Trying not to panic, he searched though Kurt’s things, but not even Kurt had one. He laughed, forced and tearful. There was nothing he needed here.  
Once he had showered and brushed his teeth, he found himself staring into the mirror. He got lost inside that glass, blinking back at his own reflection, eyes scanning over every pore of his skin.  
‘Blaine,’ he whispered to himself. ‘Blaine Anderson.’  
The words seemed so empty, so meaningless now. His own name meant nothing. Sitting down on the lid of the toilet, Blaine finally let a single tear role down his cheek. And feeling the warm, wet liquid on his skin, Blaine began to scratch. It was so intimate, the raw feel of his own nails digging into his own skin, hands targeting the tops of his thighs. It wasn’t enough, but it satisfied.  
Time passed, of Blaine just sat there, working at his own skin. It wasn’t until he craved sleep that he moved, praying Kurt was asleep as he pulled up his sweatpants and got into bed, head turning to face the wall. Left with the sting of his thighs and his own thoughts, he slowly, quietly, cried himself to sleep.


	3. Dr Pillsbury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine starts therapy. He's 'fine'.

‘What are those marks on your arm Blaine?’  
Blaine stared ahead, avoiding the woman’s arms.  
‘Nothing.’  
‘Scabs and scars aren't nothing, Blaine. How did they get there?’  
‘I don’t remember.’  
The therapist sighed, writing down more notes.  
‘Denial does not aid recovery, Blaine.’  
‘Okay.’

They had stuck him in a room today. Chair, desk, sofa, therapist. This is what they gave him. After the worst night’s sleep he’d ever had (if you could even call it that, seeing as he didn’t sleep) Blaine had been given a bleak breakfast of toast and orange juice before being guided to the room with the explanation of it being ‘introductory therapy’. And, thirty minutes in, Blaine had achieved nothing.

‘You know, we offer a range of rehabilitation programs here. Arts and crafts, cooking, music. Especially music. Your dad said you might be interested in that.’  
Blaine shrugged, staring at his shoes.  
‘Do you want me to sign you up for a signing class? A lot of the patients here are in it, the choirs actually quite good, and they could do with a soloist.’  
‘I don’t sing,’ Blaine lied.  
‘That’s not what your dad said.’  
‘My dad says a lot of things,’ Blaine replied, a fly heading towards a web.  
‘Like what?’  
For the first time, Blaine looked up. His therapist, Dr Pillsbury, was really quite pretty.  
‘He says I’m crazy.’ He paused. ‘Am I?’  
‘I don’t think anyone’s crazy, Blaine. Some people are ill, with biological differences in their brain, and some people are hurting inside, but no one’s crazy.’  
She smiled, soft and gentle. It was a smile Blaine gave back.  
‘So you’ll join the singing program for me?’ Dr Pillsbury asked again, typing into her computer.  
‘I guess so.’  
‘Thank you. And you’re sure there’s nothing more you want to talk about today?’  
‘No…actually, can I have a razor? Not to- not to do anything bad, I just really need to shave.’  
Blaine rubbed a hand over the growing stubble on his face, trying to reiterate his point.  
‘Okay,’ Dr Pillsbury smiled. ‘Like some other patients here, we give you one under supervision. You shave in front of us, then give it back. That sound fair?’  
No  
‘Yes.’  
‘So we’re done for today? I have your schedule here, now you’re signed up for choir. In your free time you can either book extra appointments with me or just relax in the games room, okay?’  
‘Okay, thanks. Bye.’  
Blaine headed towards the door.  
‘Are you sure there’s nothing more you want to talk about today? We’re going to have to talk about stuff at some point, Blaine.’  
_Wait. I didn’t tell you. I need a razor. I cut. I cut I cut I cut. My head always hurts. My thigh hurts but in a bad way. I want to die. I need a razor. Please._  
‘No.’


	4. A Diagnosis

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you guys are liking this so far!

Over the next few days Blaine quickly learned the daily schedule of Pavarotti House. The day started with breakfast, followed by taking any prescribed medication, then morning activities, then lunch, therapy, over activities and dinner, followed by optional therapy and activities before bed. It was tiresomely boring, being forced to join in childish painting classes – ‘’Paint what you feel today’’ a therapist had told them, and, still the new kid and determined to keep his distance from people , Blaine felt pretty isolated. The only person he wanted to talk to was his roommate, Kurt, the beautiful boy who never talked. Blaine had tried initiating conversation but Kurt would always give an unconcerned jolt of his shoulders, shrugging before wandering off. The only time Blaine managed to have a decent talk with him was the night before.  
Blaine had woken up to the sound of screaming coming from someone else’s room, the loud shouts waking both him and Kurt up.

‘What’s that?’ he had asked Kurt, cold and scared. Kurt had clearly woken up a few minutes before Blaine, his bedside light on as he took a sip of water.  
‘Tina. Schizophrenic.’ He explained. ‘You’ll get used to it.’  
‘Is she always like this?’  
A new voice had joined Tina’s shouting; a nurse, trying to calm her down.  
‘Sometimes.’  
Kurt’s eyes had shone in the light, watering slightly. He’d had three blankets and a duvet wrapped around his petite body , the thick wrap of them making him look even smaller. There was a moment of silence, both of them listening to the shouting outside calm down both Kurt had got up suddenly.  
‘Fuck this, I gotta pee.’  
He had left quickly, leaving the warmth of his duvet behind as he entered the ensuite, Blaine lying in defeat at the end of the conversation. Kurt had seemed so much more vulnerable at night, easier to talk to. Blaine had liked talking to him. Now alone, he was left to his own thoughts.  
From the sound of running water, it had seemed like Kurt had decided to take a shower as well, spending a long time in the bathroom. Tired and drowsy, Blaine had fallen asleep to the sound of Kurt coughing, the soft feel of the pillow the only comfort he had.

Now on his fourth day, Blaine was dreading the afternoon’s therapy session. So far he had given a surly silence and one-word answers to all Miss Pillsbury’s questions, but the clock was ticking and he knew that could only go on for so long. He thought of it with fear all day, the dread of it almost ruining his morning choir session. The choir class he had been signed up for actually turned out okay. Taught by some Broadway failure, the train wreck of a teacher, Mr Schuester was a disaster, but the singing itself Blaine found comforting. There was no focus on himself, just the music, singing the words of somebody else. Kurt was in the class too, obviously forced. Mr Schuester would try all lesson to coax Kurt into singing louder, but the boy would give an infuriating mumble which Blaine struggled to hear. But still, it was clear to everyone that Kurt could sing. He just wasn’t going to do it for everyone else.  
‘Sing louder, Kurt!’ Mr Schuester rapped, trying for the third time that hour to encourage Kurt.  
Kurt said nothing back, giving only a cold stare to everyone in the room.  
‘I’m only here because I’m forced too,’ he snarled at Mr Schuester. ‘Please leave me alone.’  
‘It’s Mr Schue,’ Mr Schuester would reply. ‘Look at Blaine, look how well he’s singing- stand next to Kurt, Blaine, show him how it’s done!.’  
Whilst Blaine stood next to Kurt and tried not to smile too much, Kurt became almost silent. But even standing there, lips stubbornly pursed and eyes staring down wards, he looked beautiful. It seemed everything Kurt did was beautiful. Everything.  
The lesson ended with Kurt storming out, Mr Schuester anxiously patting them all on the back as they left. Blaine got more nervous as every second passed, knowing that after lunch he would have to go to therapy. Right now, any distraction was welcome, one that came along in the form of Sebastian Smythe.  
‘Name’s Blaine, right?’  
Blaine was walking towards the lunch hall as the familiar body spoke to him. He recognised him as Sebastian, one of the other guys in choir.  
‘Yeah,’ Blaine said, giving a nervous smile. What did this boy want? Had he done anything wrong? Was this guy gonna do something to him?  
‘Your singing’s so good.’  
‘Uh…thanks,’ Blaine replied, taken by surprise. He wasn’t not sure whether to believe it or not, but the boy did seem genuine.  
‘Like, sexy good. Hot.’  
Sebastian continued with confidence, a smile flickering at the corner of his mouth when he saw how stunned Blaine was.  
‘So, are you gay?’  
‘What?’  
‘Single?’  
‘Sebastian-‘  
‘Hey, hey, don’t worry. I’m hardly gonna rape you or anything. But sit with me at lunch, okay?’  
Unsure of whether Sebastian was making fun of him or not, Blaine took his usual seat next to Kurt, with Sebastian eagerly taking a place next to him. The conversation was very one sided, with Sebastian doing most of the talking, interrogating Blaine on where he grew up, what his life was like. Blaine tried to give the best answers he could, with Kurt sat in silence next to him. As the minutes ticked by, Blaine’s hunger decreased more and more, stomach being overtaken with the nervous flicker of butterflies. He didn’t want to go to therapy. He couldn’t go to therapy. At the end of lunch he had eaten even less than Kurt.  
Finally, a bell went. Getting up to walk down to therapy, Blaine savoured every moment before he went in.

 

‘Hi Blaine!’ Miss Pillsbury said. Blaine had got in the habit of mimicking her sweet, false voice in his head. It made him feel sick.  
‘Hello.’  
‘Sit down, sit down. How are you feeling?’  
Blaine shrugged. He didn’t know. What happened earlier with Sebastian was strange, but almost unimportant. Irrelevant. That’s how everything felt.  
‘Fine’  
‘Really? You’ve said that every time you’ve been in here, but you wouldn’t be here if you were ‘fine’, would you?’  
Blaine shrugged.  
‘Oh, you’re getting like Kurt, I see. Well, the silence won’t help you Blaine, and I’m here to help but now it’s your time to help yourself. Your dad said you were showing sings of depression Blaine. Is that true?’  
‘I’m fine?’  
‘Well let’s see. How about I ask you questions and you tell me yes or no. Is that okay?’  
Blaine looked at his pants. The fabric seemed fascinating. He started to count every thread.  
‘Blaine?’  
‘Yes?’  
’So,’ Miss Pillsbury began. ‘Have you been feeling depressed or sad in the last few weeks?’  
Biting his tongue with reluctance, Blaine muttered a ‘yes.’  
‘How long has this been going on for, Blaine?’  
‘You said yes or no-‘  
‘Just tell me.’  
‘Two years. Maybe three.’  
‘Do you feel worthless or unimportant?’  
‘Doesn’t everyone?’  
Miss Pillsbury sighed, taking out a notebook. ‘I’ll mark that one as a yes.’  
‘Have you experienced loss of appetite in the last few months?’  
‘Yes.’  
‘Have you wanted to or succeeded in self harming activities in the past months?’  
Blaine twisted the cuff of his jumper.  
Do not answer. Do not answer this woman. She cannot make you speak. No one can make you speak. Make her go away. The horrible woman. It’s your dad, he’s doing this to you, he’s-  
‘Blaine? Well, maybe we’ll save that for next time. ‘Have you wanted to or tried to commit suicide in the last few months?’  
‘No.’  
The questions went on, Blaine giving bleak yes and no answers to please Miss Pillsbury. It seemed easier to get on with it than to put it off. And he wasn’t going to talk about his feeling or anything. And she seemed to know that.  
Finally, the questions topped.  
‘I’m going to diagnose you with depression, Blaine.’  
‘Okay.’  
You’ll start a trial of antidepressants tomorrow along with the usual therapy, and we’ll see how we go from there, okay?’  
Her smile was putrid. Teeth glowing, lips beaming. It didn’t mean anything.  
‘Okay.’  
Blaine bit his lip, blinking hard.  
‘Do you want to say anything else this session, Blaine?’  
‘Do I still have to come this evening?’  
Miss Pillsbury looked at him. Looked at the young, weak, desperate boy biting back tears in the opposite chair.  
‘No, that’s fine for today. You can have the evening off okay?’  
Blaine left without a word.


	5. No Food, No Meds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blaine's given meds. But Blaine doesn't need them right? Blaine's not crazy.

The next morning Blaine awoke with the usual pangs of dread in his stomach. This time, it was because today was the day he started his meds. He’d seen most people at the ward take them, standing in the queue to collect the cup of pills and the cup of water, and now he would be joining them.

Kurt didn’t take meds though. He didn’t really take food either, always sitting at the dining table under the watchful eyes of a nurse, chewing every mouthful pointedly until given a nod that that was enough. And Kurt still declined Blaine of any real conversation. Blaine wouldn’t have minded that- he was used to it- if only Kurt didn’t seem exactly like the type of person Blaine _wanted_ to talk to. For once, Blaine felt like there was a person who would understand him.

Kurt and Blaine dressed in their usual silence, both boys carefully not looking at each other (Kurt had almost hissed at Blaine the first time Blaine’s eyes had accidentally glanced over to Kurt getting changed, catching him shirtless), waiting for the breakfast bell to ring. It soon did, and Blaine went downstairs with his heart beating slightly faster, his head knowing that a blue cup of white, pristine pills lay waiting for him down there.

He ate his breakfast in silence – toady  it was watery scrambled eggs on toast- giving his usual nods of agreement to whatever Sebastian was saying, who had recently begun sitting next to Blaine at every opportunity. Today he seemed to be going on about how all the major pop stars were ‘manufactured, capitalist pieces of shit’ and ‘probably all closet gays anyway.’ Blaine didn’t really care.

‘Okay!’ a nurse called, waving her arm for everyone to pass their plates alone to her. ‘Activities will start in ten minutes, and those with meds can start getting them now. Blaine that includes you from today.’

She said this all to cheerfully. Her eyes stared through Blaine as if she could pierce his brain. Her eyes were taunting him, jeering at him. _I know why_ , they seemed to whisper. _It’s because you’re crazy. Like the rest of them_. And that was why she had humiliated him in front of everyone, why she had told everyone that Blaine had to take meds. He knew everyone else was laughing, sting at him.

Before Blaine could explain that there was some mistake, that he didn’t really need them, a nurse took his shoulder and steered him to the front of the queue.

‘Blaine Anderson,’ she smiled at the nurse giving the pills out. ‘Your newest customer.’

He was handed two cups, told to down the two pills in one of them and swallow the water in the other.

Just as Blaine was scanning his brain on how to escape the situation, how to make his mouth look empty when the nurse inevitably called for him to open it so she could check he swallowed them (Sebastian had mentioned they always did this the first time)   a shout came from behind him. Tina, the girl with schizophrenia, had got hold of a nurse, struggling to hold her in a headlock.

As all the other staff rushed to solve this new problem, Blaine got rid of his own. As quickly as he could, he hid the pills up the sleeve of his shirt, then swallowed the water, taking care to make sure the nurses saw him grimace as his did so.

‘Well done,’ one of them said, patting him on the shoulder and taking the bow empty cups. ‘Wasn’t too bad was it? You’re scheduled for an art session next, so be in the art room in five minutes.’

Blaine nodded, heading to his room to dispose of the pills in a bunch of socks. The ones he choose were his thick blue ones, hand me downs from his dad. Slipping the pills into one of them, he wrapped the pair up again, wiping a tear away from his face with his sleeve.

Thank god or long sleeves, he thought. They can hide anything.

 

The art class sucked, of course. Kurt had chosen another activity (yoga, Blaine overheard) so Blaine had been stuck with Sebastian, who had coincidentally chosen the same class _and_ table to sit on as Blaine. Blaine didn’t mind Sebastian that much – he guessed it was nice to have at least somebody to talk to, even if they were completely overbearing and revolved the conversation mostly about themselves- but compared with an art class which seemed fit for five year olds, his morning was proving pretty depressing in itself.

‘Today we’ll be using interesting objects! An adult had told them. Blaine had given up trying to track who was a therapist and he was a nurse, they all seemed the same to him. ‘More specifically, pasta shapes! Glue them onto paper, paint them, make a 3D model- whatever takes your fancy!.’

Blaine had groaned, sinking his head down on to the table.

‘Hey,’ Sebastian whispered, speaking into Blaine’s ear. ‘Don’t do that- they’ll interpret it as a sign of depression or insomnia or something. You gotta act happy in this place.’

So Blaine had lifted his head up, forced a smile, and attempted at doing some art.

He had copied the girl next to him, watching how she was simply gluing pieces of macaroni down onto a sheet of cardboard to create a picture of a house. He had thought about complimenting her, of letting her know it looked good. But as soon as he opened his mouth, she glared at him, turning away.

‘Don’t worry about her, ‘Sebastian laughed, handing Blaine a pot of glue. ‘She hates you already just because you’re sat with me. Not everyone makes as good friendship choices as you have.’

‘Actually,’ the girl snarled back, ‘I’ve made perfectly good choices- my babe Brit here is far better than you. And come on- Blaine, is it?- I bet he’s forced himself upon you and you’re just too polite to say no. The name’s Santana – and it’s none of your business.’ She whipped her hair around her shoulder, blocking her face from view.

‘Hi,’ Blaine mumbled, blushing. In truth, he felt intimidated by both Sebastian and this girl, Santana. But he needed a friend after all.

‘So, what are you making?’ Sebastian asked.

‘I dunno…a face, I guess.’

‘Cool. Make it of me?’

Blaine gave a non-committal grunt, intent on not making the picture look like anyone. But instead, it came out looking vaguely reflective of Kurt. Brown, coiffed hair, blue eyes, sharp cheek bones. Blaine had half wanted to keep it.

‘What do we do with these, Sebastian?’

‘Oh these? Just chuck ‘em. The bin’s over there. I gotta go pee before lunch though- save me a space?’

Blaine nodded, purposely avoiding the bin on the way out, making a pretence of needing the toilet too so he could slip his picture upstairs, hiding it discreetly under his suitcase.

Blaine had just been about to leave the room when he heard the tap trickling in the bathroom, and the sounds of someone inside. _Kurt_ , he thought to himself. He considered calling out and telling Kurt it was a lunch time before he heard a sound which made him physically gag, trickling down his spine.

It was the sound of retching. Muffled, forced vomiting in a failed attempt to cover it up with the sound of the tap. Blaine’s first, instinctive thought was that Kurt was sick and that he should go see if he was okay and needed help. But the second thought, arriving moments later, brought the dismal taste of logic. Kurt was beautiful. Sharp cheekbones, fragile frame. Kurt’s face was beautiful, his movements were graceful. But his body – and mind- was ill. Not even Blaine could deny that. And knowing Kurt would want nothing more than privacy in a moment like this, Blaine left, closing the door as quietly as possible.

During the walk to the dining room, he tried to think up an excuse of why Kurt wouldn’t be joining them this mealtime. He knew that everyone else would think this wrong, that he should inform an adult, But Blaine knew the truth. That adults were useless, that adults failed to understand. Kurt needed help, but from Blaine’s experience, telling adults only made things worse.

Perhaps he could say Kurt went on a walk? No, you weren’t allowed to go on walks in this place, not without telling an adult first. Perhaps he could say Kurt was on the toilet? Again, no, it wouldn’t take Kurt the length of a lunchtime to use the bathroom, and they’d expect him to eat afterwards anyway. He could say Kurt was sleeping? They couldn’t go wake him, that would be rude. And then Kurt could just say he didn’t feel like eating right after waking up? Yes, that seemed a good excuse. Smiling as he practiced what he was going to say, Blaine sat down at the table.

‘Where’s Kurt?’ Sebastian asked him, sinking down into the seat by Blaine’s right hand side. ‘Oh, sleeping,’ Blaine smiled. I was going to wake him, but he looked so tired! I wouldn’t interrupt him if I were you.’

Sebastian shrugged, unworried.

‘That’s okay. Perhaps you can actually focus on _our_ conversation now you won’t be staring at him all day.’

‘Yeah, sorry.’ Blaine cleared his throat, preparing to say the excuse of Kurt sleeping to the nurse who was counting everyone, seeing who was absent. But before she had finished, Kurt slipped into the room, taking the only remaining seat – beside Blaine.

‘Hey, you okay?’ Blaine asked, as casually as he could.

‘Fine,’ Kurt said rolling his eyes, taking a large gulp of water. He smelt slightly odd, the faint stench of stink still lingered on his breath, half hidden by the smell of toothpaste.

‘Sure? You look kind of faint,’ Blaine shrugged, picking up a fork and looking at the salad and pizza put in front of him.

Kurt ignored him, taking a piece of salad and biting it, over exaggerated chewing as a nurse stood behind him, watching with a smile.

‘Hey, Nurse Shelby!’ Kurt turned around, smiling at her. ‘This pizza actually tastes okay for once- tell whoever cooked it?’

The nurse paused before smiling, unwilling to believe Kurt until he took a bite of it.

‘Good boy,’ she said, patting his shoulder and walking away, whispering something to another nurse.

Blaine pretended not to notice Kurt’s next bite, which resulted in him ‘dropping’ the rest of the pizza when he thought no one was looking, quickly tucking it into the waistband of his tracksuit pants.

Blaine was faintly reminded of the way he had hidden his pills that morning. He smiled, taking a celebratory bite of his own lunch. He was never taking those stupid pills. Screw ‘em- if Kurt could hide things, so could he.

 


End file.
